


The long road home

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Foul Language, M/M, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Pre-Iron Man 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: "Why did we stop, Tones, are we there yet?" The lack of response has Rhodey open his eyes to look outside. "Where is this? Tell me we're not out of gas..."When Rhodey looks his way he musters his brightest showman smile. "I may or may not have killed a man..."OrTony and his best friend make a road trip from New York to Malibu, but it doesn't exactly go according to plan...





	The long road home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enmuse (Scifiroots)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/gifts).



> Written for the current key exchange of the discord winteriron server, where enmuse (scifiroots) gave me this key:
> 
> Blaming yourself and taking responsibility are two different things. 
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't have a beta for this fic, so if you spot anything off just let me know!

He's bend over the steering wheel, getting as close to the windshield as possible, where the wipers are working furiously. The rain is so heavy the headlights can barely penetrate the dark curtain of water.  
  
They're in the middle of nowhere, on a dirt track, in a forest, and he really doesn't want to be here. Wherever the hell 'here' is. They might be kinda lost and he totally blames his best friend.  
  
"Let's go by car, Tony!  It'll be fun, Tony. We'll have time for each other, just like old times, Tony. What could go wrong, Tony?"  
  
Said best friend is sleeping against the passenger side window, drooling and probably snoring like a rhino. He can't hear anything above the din of the rain on roof and the squeaking of the wipers, however.  
  
He could kill for a drink right now. He knows exactly _why_ Rhodey insisted on driving instead of flying, devious man. Tony had managed a few days back to sneak some tiny bottles of Johnny Walker out of the hotel's minibar, throwing them back in the bathroom. The look of utter disappointment on his best friend's face left him with such a hangover that he hasn't drunk since.    
  
Out of nowhere a man steps onto the road, right in front of him, he brakes but he can't do anything but watch the car collide with the man's hip. The man cartwheels over the car and lands behind them with a thump.  
  
Finally the car slides to a halt in the mud and Tony has to take a minute to collect himself and not panic. It's cool, was probably a deer, not a man. Besides, people are flexible, a collision like that wouldn't have even broken a leg, right? He furiously rubs his hands over his face.  
  
Next to him Rhodey shifts in his chair. "Why did we stop, Tones, are we there yet?" The lack of response has Rhodey open his eyes to look outside. "Where is this? Tell me we're not out of gas..."  
  
When Rhodey looks his way he musters his brightest showman smile. "I may or may not have killed a man..."  
  
"YOU WHAT?"  
  
"I DON'T KNOW! He showed up out of nowhere, there wasn't enough time to brake and if I had swerved _we_ would've been dead," he gestures at the thick vegetation around them.  
  
"Okay, no problem." Rhodey is rubbing his hands, a nervous habit he's learned to combat nail biting. "It was probably just a deer. You go have a look, to be sure."  
  
"What do you mean 'You go'? Haven't you watched all those horror movies with me in college? Rule number one is don't split up." Tony is very sure he is not going outside by himself. 'Might be a deer' could be carrying a chainsaw for all he knows.  
  
Beside him Rhodey mutters, "Rule number one is don't go outside."  
  
"You've got to be shitting me here, Platypus. We are not going to leave a potentially wounded person here in the pouring rain because we watched Texas Chainsaw massacre yesterday in the motel, and I'm not going out there by myself! Besides, this is totally your fault."  
  
"How is this my fault, you're the one driving!"  
  
"I own a jet! I own several jets! I shouldn't be driving in the first place!"  
  
Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay, panicking doesn't get us anywhere --"  
  
"I'm not panicking!"  Rhodey shoots him a look and he realises he's not breathing. Okay, maybe he's panicking a little. He steels himself and turns to Rhodey. "We'll both go, I'll check for injuries while you cover me with your service pistol in case of a chainsaw."  
  
"Okay, solid plan. I've got your six, Tones."  
  
Luckily Rhodey insisted on packing the car, so in no time they're both outside with a raincoat on and a flashlight in hand. They shuffle towards the dark shape that's lying awkwardly on the road, and which doesn't resemble a deer at all. When they're near, Tony bends down to check for a pulse but the man suddenly groans and sits up. Tony yelps and whacks him on the head with his flashlight, making him fall backwards to the ground again.  
  
"What did you do that for?" Rhodey has to yell to be heard above the rain.  
  
"I panicked! All your talk about chainsaw killers made me antsy."  
  
"I didn't mention them once, you did!"  
  
A deep sigh to centre himself. "Okay, this one's on me, but the collision was yours."  
  
"Fair enough," Rhodey nods, "But what are we going to? Blaming ourselves doesn't mean shit if we don't act on it."  
  
"We're taking him with us."  
  
Rhodey looks like he wants to protest, but quickly concedes. While Tony provides lighting he checks the man for injuries. Miraculously only his upper right leg seems broken. Rhodey makes a quick splint with his raincoat and a piece of wood while Tony runs back to the car to get something to drag the man with. He returns with a sleeping bag and together they manage to pull the man onto it.  
  
"He is a lot heavier than he looks," Tony heaves.  
  
"Must be very muscled?" They're near the car now and Rhodey goes ahead to clear the back seat.  
  
"That's not very comforting, Honeybear," Tony yells at him. "Why on earth would a super muscled man be wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night?" He shines his flashlight on the man's face. He looks gaunt and has dark rings under his eyes. His blonde hair is obviously dyed, and he has several days worth of scruff on his face.  
  
Rhodey comes back and together they awkwardly push and pull the man into the car. He is soaked through so Tony covers him with the other sleeping bag. "You should change, cupcake, don't want you getting sick and leave me to deal with this alone," he tells Rhodey.    
  
At last they're both seated, Rhodey behind the wheel and Tony nearly backwards in the passenger seat, keeping an eye on their passenger. The rain has finally stopped and a full moon peeps through from behind the clouds. As they drive away Rhodey starts humming _Thriller_ , cackling when Tony whacks him on the shoulder.  


  
  
Somewhere along the way Tony must have fallen asleep, because he startles badly when the car pulls up at a motel. He's sideways in his chair, and when he opens his eyes he looks into a pair of unfamiliar grey ones. It's years of waking up to strangers that makes that he doesn't jump or yell.  
  
"Honeybear, our guest is awake."  
  
"Good, we're at a stop." Rhodey turns back to look at the man as well, who watches them calmly, not giving anything away. It's kinda creepy to be honest. "Hi, my name is James, and this is Tony. What's yours?"  
  
The man furrows his brow but doesn't answer.  
  
"Do you remember what happened?” Tony asks.  
  
The man slowly shakes his head, not breaking eye contact.

“You stepped in front of our car and got hit, busted your leg.” The man just stares.  
  
"Maybe he doesn't speak English, Platypus? Do you speak English?” This is met with the furrowed brow again, followed by a little nod.  
  
"Does your head hurt? Maybe you've hit it hard enough for temporal amnesia." Rhodey snorts beside him and Tony shoots him an annoyed glance. The man follows the interaction but doesn't otherwise react.  
  
Tony claps his hands together. "Well, this is going swimmingly, don't you think? We'll be best of friends in no time!" He jumps out of the car, yelling "be right back," and speedwalks to the reception area. He checks out of habit, but his phone died somewhere during the drive.  
  
Inside it's warm and stuffy. A tiny old lady is snoring in a rocking chair near the t.v. which is showing static. She has a black cat on her lap and a knitting project has fallen to the ground. She's the only one here so she must be the receptionist. Tony discreetly clears his throat, but that only makes her snore louder, head lolling backwards. He goes over and pats her gently on the shoulder, to no avail. Only the cat wakes up to watch him, which isn't creepy at all. Stupid Rhodey.  
  
He crosses himself, a habit left from his mother, and walks over to the desk. On it is an honest to god dial phone. He picks up the receiver, but the landline is dead as well. If an axe murderer or a monster isn't going to show up at some point he's going to be severely disappointed.  
  
A pegboard with keys hangs on the wall, next to a layout of the motel. After a quick study he takes the key of the biggest ground floor apartment. If they're not going anywhere they might as well be comfortable.  
  
He saunters back to the car, where Rhodey and their mystery guest are holding a staring contest, by the looks of it. He steps in, "Straight ahead, Sour patch, second building on the left is our stay. It should be big enough for three."  
  
He turns back to the man in the backseat, who has managed to sit up a bit and is leaning against the right-hand door. He points at his leg, "You're okay with Platypus and me carrying you for a bit? Don't think you should move that too much until we've gotten a look at it."  
  
The man doesn't answer, just looks at him, and it's starting to creep Tony out. "Or you could stay in the car, see if we care.  But I'll be taking the spark plug with me, Charlie."  
  
"Charlie?" Rhodey pipes up.  
  
"From the silent movies? Not my best, I'll admit." The man continues to stay silent so Tony turns to look out front. When they arrive at the building Rhodey parks as close to the door as possible. The man looks like he wants to stay put, but at last he does accept Rhodey's offered arm and the three of them make their way inside.  


  


Tony isn't one to be quickly intimidated. He might not be large, but he _owns_ every room he enters. He can smooch his way into pretty much any type of crowd, and though he may not feel exactly comfortable, he can make it look like he does.

This mystery man, however, unnerves him. As Rhodey and him support the man inside it's clear that Tony is dwarfed by the stranger. He's built as well, broad in the shoulders and with well defined muscles, just like they had guessed. This doesn't add up with the fact that he seems badly nourished. His face is pale and haggard, and what Tony can see of his body doesn't have an ounce of fat on it.

The worst thing is his eyes though. There's something about them that Tony can't define. His gaze isn't exactly empty, or unfocused, but he's not entirely here either. Until he focuses on you, and then it's like you're an ant under a microscope, not a detail will escape his notice. If Tony craved a drink before, that was nothing to the yearning, churning feeling in his stomach right now.

They situate the man on a chair, with his leg on a stool, where he silently watches them unload the car. During the entire transfer the only thing to notice his discomfort is a clenched jaw. This adds to the uneasiness in Tony's stomach, man with a broken leg should show some pain, shouldn't he?

Rhodey rummages through his suitcase and comes up with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that should fit the man. He goes over to him while Tony covers the bed with towels. “You're soaked and we need to look at that leg, let's get you settled on the bed.”

The man just watches Rhodey with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Tony sits down on the bed. “Listen Cupcake, we're all guys here, no need to be shy. You're not my type anyway.” He pretends to swoon and bats his lashes. This is a big fat lie, the man would be exactly Tony's type, if he could tone down the creepiness factor. The man doesn't react at all.

Time for a different tactic. Tony goes over to their guest and sits down on his knees next to him, looking as small and harmless as possible. “You must be uncomfortable? I understand you don't trust us, but I promise you didn't walk into a remake of Misery. We just want to look at your leg, see if we can prevent that you'll walk with a limp for the rest of your life? No groping, scouts honour.” He holds one hand over his heart and gives a scout salute with the other.

Something changes in the man's face, something melts? Tony can't really describe it another way, but he's now sitting next to a person instead of a person shaped block of granite.

“You hit me on the head.” The man's voice is gravelly, like he hasn't used it for some time.

“Yes, yes I did. But that doesn't technically count as groping.” He gives the man his cheekiest grin, the one that has all the ladies (and a good portion of the lads) swooning. Mystery man however looks back impassive.

Tony sighs. He's too tired and not drunk enough for this. “You're a tough crowd, you know that?” He stands back up and walks away, muttering, “What is my life that I'm trying to get the axe murderer to undress…” And flops face forward on the bed. “Just make it a clean chop okay,” he says slightly muffled by the blanket. The bed dips where Rhodey sits down beside him.

It takes a while, but finally the man concedes. “Okay,” he nearly whispers. “Just my pants, the coat stays on.”

Tony lifts his head to share a look with Rhodey, who shrugs and stands up. Together they help the man to the bed.  “What should we call you, roomie? Mysterious murderer has a nice ring to it, but is a bit impersonal.” He plumps some pillows behind the man's back.

“Stop goading the murderer, Tones.” Rhodey's standing with his hands on his hips, studying the man's legs. “We'll have to cut off your jeans I'm afraid.”

Tony joins him at the foot of the bed. “I'm not goading him, we're engaging in polite conversation.” Rhodey shoots him a stern look before he goes to rummage in his suitcase once more.

“Okay, I was goading him. I can't help it, you know this. You have known this for nearly two decades.” He looks over Rhodey's shoulder and points at the multi purpose knife. “Not only have you known this, but have, in fact, actively _encouraged_ me to goad in the past.” He walks over to a surreal photograph of a woman on the beach next to a giant snail. For a moment he wonders if it's the receptionist in days gone by. He adjusts the frame slightly so it hangs straight.  

Meanwhile Rhodey is contemplating the options on his knife. “Did not.”

“Did too!” He lays down on his side next to to mystery man’s left, head propped up with his hand. “Must I remind you of Mr Cameron, of experimental maths?” He idly plucks on a loose thread on one of the towels while the man follows their interaction like he watches a tennis match.

Rhodey huffs a laugh. “Fair point.” He has finally settled on a curved knife and approaches the bed. Tony feels their guest tense, so he pats his arm. “Don't worry, I'll buy you a new one.” The man jerks away from the physical contact, groaning as he jostles his leg.

“Okay, that's it. That leg needs taken care of and I'm doing that right now.” Rhodey carefully removes the temporary splint and proceeds to cut the fabric of the right leg. The man tenses even more and Tony wants to reach out and comfort him, so he does the next best thing. “You look like a Rodney. Or maybe Spike? You've got the whole punk look going.” The man looks away from his leg to furrow his brow at Tony.

“Bob, Ruben, Daniel, Chris, Nathan, Steve, Thomas, Jacob, Michael, Matthew, Andrew, Joe, John, James?” The furrow only increases. “Maybe your parents liked a more foreign sounding name? “Elijah? Sebastian? Thierry? Raoul? Casimir? Balthazar?”

“Balthazar, really, Tones?”

“Don't hate on Balthazar, Platypus, it's a very sophisticated name.”

“Sure. Okay, I'm done.” Tony gives himself a mental high five for distracting Balthazar. Now comes the hard part though.

“We're in luck that it isn't an open fracture, but it looks like the bones don't align. I'm sorry but I'll have to pull on your leg.”

“You're pulling his leg, right?”

“Tony…” Rhodey sounds like he's at the end of his patience, a clear sign to back off.

“Sorry Sour patch, I'm nervous okay? You know how I am with other people's pain.” He jumps off the bed and goes outside. In the back of the car he had hidden some stuff to work on, should he get bored out of his mind during their stay in one of the vegetable states. He dismantles what could have been an epic potato gun and grabs some wire as well.

 

Back inside he notices Rhodey sitting on the bed, inspecting the fracture. “I've brought back a good splint,” he yells. “And I'm vetoing Balthazar, it's too long, I'm sorry but you'll have to come up with something better.” He dumps the supplies on the bed next to Rhodey. “Can you work with this?”

“Thanks Tones. Do we have something for him to bite on as well?”

Tony brings over his toothbrush and sits down next to not-Balthazar. “It's this or a piece of metal,” he hands it over. “Look at you, cupcake, in bed with two men without your pants and no memory of last night. It's just like my frat days.” He sighs wistfully.

“Tony, come here, I need you to hold this steady when I've aligned the bones.”

When they're all in position Rhodey locks eyes with the man? “Ready? On three. One --”

He snaps the bone in place lightning quick, making the man yell and bite the toothbrush hard enough to splinter it. “Fuck me,” Tony whispers. “Remind me of this if you ever offer me a blowjob…”

He’s so focused on gently holding the leg in place that he doesn't notice at first, but not-Balthazar is shaking. “Are you all--, what are you, you're laughing, Platypus, he's laughing!”

The man spits out pieces of the brush and wipes his eyes. “You guys are nuts.”

“You'll fit right in, buddy,” Rhodey replies, not taking his eyes of his work.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com)!


End file.
